


Of Homemade Fudge and Octopus Cuddles

by Dagger_Stiletto



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, BrieflyQuiet!Jensen, Bullying, Coach!Clay, Excessive use of Spanishdict.com English-to-Spanish translator, Foster Care Trauma, I've Gone Three Days Without Sleep, KindaTalkative!Cougar, M/M, Pre-Slash, Profuse use of Spanish language, help me, i should be ashamed, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagger_Stiletto/pseuds/Dagger_Stiletto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When sixteen-year-old Jacob Jensen arrives in a Podunk town in central Texas, no one really knows what to make of him. He’s socially awkward, somehow manages to be shy even while being far too talkative until someone shuts him up, and he’s brilliant with technology and his schoolwork. Odd all the way around. But Jolene likes him, and then Cougar makes his move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Homemade Fudge and Octopus Cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> I should really be ashamed. I keep doing horrible things to my favorite character in The Losers franchise. I can't help that he's easy to abuse! Don't worry, Jensen. Dagger-chan will eventually make a fic where you are in no way injured or emotionally/mentally scarred....Hopefully....  
> Again, I want to remind you all that I do not speak Spanish, so I rely on English-to-Spanish translators. I go through several sources that are NOT Google Translate, but my main website is spanishdict.com. Please do not be offended if anything is phrased incorrectly, Spanish-speaking friends!  
> Hope you guys like this one. I am running on lots of caffeine and a lack of sleep over the course of three days, so if you notice big problems with my spelling grammar, let me know, and I'll fix it.  
> Feedback = <3
> 
> Edit 09/19/2014: I have corrected all mistakes that were pointed out by the wonderful in-umbra-gratia (DirtyanonsofThedas). If there are any others that someone has noticed, and it really bugs them (because it really bugs me), let me know.

_When sixteen-year-old Jacob Jensen_ arrives in a Podunk town in central Texas, no one really knows what to make of him. He’s a tall kid at six feet, skinny from malnutrition, blonde, and blue-eyed with odd wire-rimmed glasses. He always has a computer, cell phone, or game system somewhere on his person, if not all three. He’s socially awkward, somehow manages to be shy even while being far too talkative until someone shuts him up, and he’s brilliant with technology and his schoolwork. Odd all the way around.

He has an eidetic memory. He skipped a couple grades, and if he hadn’t been hospitalized most of last year, the genius would have been at college already. Instead, story is that he was bounced around a few foster homes after his parents’ death at age fourteen, and his last one starved and beat him so much that he had to be hospitalized and bedridden. He’ll walk with a limp for the rest of his life, most likely, and he’ll never be able to see perfectly, even with Lasik.

His sister, meanwhile, had been working on gaining custody of him. Ten years older than Jake, she’d been working abroad as an undercover agent in the Army. No one knows how, but she received news of her brother’s abuse and chose to break protocol; she broke laws to speed up her mission. It all worked out in the end, and she demanded to become a recruiter so she could remain in the states. The Army agreed, in a bind with all the secrets she knew and the hard work she’d done, and sent her home.

After gaining custody of her brother, Janelle Jensen rented a temporary apartment near the hospital in New Hampshire so she could get Jake to and from his doctor and physical therapy until he was as well as they could get him. Then she decided to move them to a new town entirely, away from the bad memories and the people who may or may not have had anything to do with what happened to Jake; so they both could get a fresh start. She located a town thirty minutes away from a recruiters’ office, purchased a home, and transferred her credentials and what-have-you to the new workplace. They traveled 1900 miles from Manchester to this tiny little town.

Unfortunately, Jake has to redo his senior year, and being the youngest of the group is hard enough. Being a new kid in a town he’s never heard of, no friends to speak of aside from the magical world of cyberspace, and the characteristics of a loudmouthed nerd who likes to wear loud colors and limps does not help his case. Being blatantly gay, even though he doesn’t go around hitting on the locals, is pretty much a nail in his coffin.

Everyone, even the teachers, call him Jensen, when they’re not calling him Chatterbox, Blabbermouth, Geek, or Freak, that is; and yes, there are definitely capitals in there. He’s fine with that. As usual, when he first came, the popular cliques tried to integrate him into their crowd of “coolness” and social segregation with all the perks of stereotypical stigmas, heaps of holier-than-thou judgment, bubbly airheaded-ness, fake smiles, vacant expressions, and my-shit-doesn’t-stink attitudes. His attractiveness, outside of the unhealthy weight and the limp, had confused them into thinking he was just like them, so he gave them that much. Can’t really blame the mindless for what they can’t help.

Of course, not being a part of their group turns him into a target. They don’t take rejection well, apparently. He wears long sleeves to hide the bruises—results from being knocked into lockers or tripped, or having balls and the like lobbed at his tall figure—from his sister. He slouches and keeps his head down, as he was taught in foster care, to make himself smaller. The teachers conveniently don’t see anything that’s going on, although Coach Clay is an active advocate against bullying and puts an end to it when he sees it—a fair 72% of the time, surprisingly.

Janelle catches on, however. She dresses in her uniform, making sure that her rank as a Sergeant is clear. She calls the school and sets up a recruitment booth regularly. She introduces herself as Jake’s sister and passive-aggressively puts fear into his schoolmates’ hearts with war stories and descriptions of what she can do—which also attracts interested fresh meat for the cause.

The attacks and “accidents” decrease significantly, but not entirely, for which he is grateful. At least now he can wear T-shirts in the middle of summer in Texas again.

He’s still friendless for the most part, except pretty Jolene, who treats him like a human being and laughs at his jokes. She is one of the popular girls, but not one that flocks after the jocks. She’s a violinist and in the flag corps, and Jake had “accidentally” fixed her laptop. It had been during a study hall, and she’d been getting frustrated when a program she needed for a project wouldn’t run. Jake had leaned over, naturally curious about the technical issue, stretched a hand across her, typed a few codes, and then pulled away to finish his own assignment. Since then, Jolene will share the cookies she makes in Home-Ec with him and sometimes just sit next and listen to him as he babbles nonsensically—at least to her—away.

Otherwise, the blonde always sticks to himself, against his nature, and he brings his own lunch to avoid bullies stealing his lunch money. He sits in a corner, making himself as small as possible, mumbling as he chews on a carrot stick and quickly writes code on a notebook. He startles when someone actually deigns to sit down across from him, and he looks up to see who it is, careful not to make eye contact.

In front of him is Carlos “Cougar” Alvarez, an eighteen-year-old senior and captain of the soccer team. He’s five-foot-nine and stocky, deeply tanned with long curly hair tied off at the nape of his neck, and a well-worn leather cowboy hat slung to hang against his shoulder blades; if it wasn’t prohibited in the school dress code, the hat would be riding low on his brow. His eyes are a warm chocolate brown, and his face, though not serious or aggressive, is closed off and hard to read. From what Jake knows, he’s an intelligent male from a large, traditionally Catholic Latino family, and he likes to speak in Spanish to throw other people off. He’s a 7 on the 1-10 threat-to-Jensen scale.

Blue eyes flick around, watching Linwood “Pooch” Porteous sit down beside his friend. He is an African American seventeen-year-old most known for driving his restored 1974 Corvette Stingray, cherry red, which he and his father both rebuilt. He’s one of the high school students that can bounce between all the cliques and be accepted by all, and he often breaks up arguments, somehow without generating resentment from either party. He has an athletic build, mostly from running and working on cars at his father’s shop, and he stands at five-ten. He’s a four on the threat scale.

Jake tenses as Cougar’s second friend sits down on the other side of the Mexican-American. William Roque, eighteen years old, and one of the few students that exceeds Jake’s height at six-foot-three. He’s built like a tank and one of the best players on the local football team, switching between defensive lineman and offensive tackles. He has never actively attacked the techie, but the large male with an almost permanent scowl and a love for knives and martial arts is a fucking _twelve_ on the threat scale.

The blonde swallows hard and looks back down at the notebook in front of him, thankful he hadn’t made eye contact with the Alpha males. He tries to pretend they’re not there, hoping that ignoring them will keep him from gabbing nervously like the chatterbox he is. He resists biting his lip so he doesn’t show exactly how anxious he is. He finishes the coding running through his head for the video game he wants to design, nervous energy rolling off him like heat from a radiator.

“Hey man, name’s Pooch,” the mechanic-in-training says, introducing himself and sticking his hand out for a shake.

It startles Jake, and he stares at the hand, probably looking like a dimwitted blonde, before hesitantly accepting it, giving a firm if wary handshake. “Jake, but everyone calls me Jensen.” He pauses, licking his lips. “So…what do I need to do to make sure you guys don’t try to kill me? A lot of the other guys backed off when my sister came to do some recruiting, but I’m not naïve enough to think that _everyone_ will give into fear of her.” He gnaws on the eraser of his pencil, blinking in surprise when Cougar reaches out to push it away from his mouth.

“Naw, kid, we ain’t like that,” Roque says, his voice deep. It’s quiet now, but the blonde has the feeling that it could get quite thunderous if the man deigns to raise his voice. Like the voice of God.

“We’re here because one way or another, you interest us,” Pooch clarifies without actually _clarifying_ anything. “We’re not here to hurt you or anything.”

Jake lifts an eyebrow that clearly expresses how much he believes them. He is aware of curious eyes on the four of them, and he fidgets a little, stuffing his notebook in his bag so he can flee easily if need be.

“I’m serious, dude. The Pooch likes meeting new people, and you’ve been around for quarter of a semester without me actually meeting or talking to you.” Pooch grins, expression open. “My Jolene says you’re a good kid, just that no one gives you a chance.”

Ah. So that’s what this was about. The closest person to an actual friend that the blonde has so far is dating the mechanic, and apparently she feels that she needs to integrate him further into her life. She could have done so just by asking, of course…

“I’m an awesome person,” Jake says with a smirk of self-confidence he barely half feels at best. “But whatever Jolene says can’t be the only reason you guys have lowered yourselves to speaking to pond scum.”

Cougar scowls, lips pressing thin for a moment. The blip bumps him up to an 8 on the threat-to-Jensen-O’meter.

“Pond scum? Where the hell did you get that analogy?” Roque demands with a truly frightening glower, to which Jake shrugs. “Anyway, I personally want to see if you’re capable of doing anything other than hide in a corner and mumble to yourself about codes and games and shit. Maybe teach you a little self-defense and hand-to-hand combat so you don’t have to rely solely on your sister’s reputation.”

Jake blinks but can’t honestly feel too surprised with his admission. Roque is a hardass, and he can more than handle his part of a fight. He can probably obliterate all opponents in a fight against six people all at once.

“So Pooch is here to be friends because his girlfriend told him to—” he ignores Pooch’s squawk of indignation and protest— “and Roque wants to teach me how to be a BAMF. What about Cougar?”

Cougar shifts, seeming to perk up when Jake says his name. The blonde quirks an eyebrow but waits for an answer to his query rather than respond.

“Cougs? Well, see, last time we asked, all he said was ‘I want him,’” Pooch says, rubbing the back of his neck a little embarrassedly. “We don’t know if it’s in a sexy-time way or a buddy-buddy way. Only he knows, and he’s not sharing right now.”

“He’s a secretive fucker,” Roque concludes.

Cougar adds nothing but a flint in his eye.

Jake stares at all three of them, not quite sure if he should believe these people. It’s all very interesting, and he wants to probe deeper into their reasoning behind everything, but he’s not going to push his luck. He’s still in self-preservation mode, and self-preservation mode advises him to contemplate quietly.

“So, what do you say, Jensen?” Pooch asks after a few minutes of silence. He probably wants an answer before they have to go from lunch to next class, which is in about five or so minutes.

Jake fidgets and glances around himself. He takes a deep breath, then releases it all in dialogue. “I’m going to be honest with you,” he says, hiding his shaking hands under the table. “I could use some friends. I don’t want to spend the next one-and-a-half semesters ducking into corners and staying out of everyone’s way and biting my lip, tongue, cheek, or all of the above to stay quiet when I really want to say something. Jolene is nice, but I only see her in the hallways or in study hall.”

He stops, clenches his fists. Then he looks them in the eyes, trying to convey how serious he is now. “But I’m tired of being taken advantage of. I’m the youngest senior for a _reason_ , and everyone has their breaking point. If you help me reach mine, my sister will be the _least_ of your problem.” His voice drops in register for a moment. “Bruises and bones heal, but there are some things that aren’t so easy to get rid of. Like endless streams of unwanted porn to your email or bad credit.” He brings his voice back to its natural tone. “If you’re tired of me, if you think you’ve made a mistake, be a decent person and _tell_ me. I don’t care if it’s through text or email, as cowardly as other people may think it is, but don’t let me know through other people or as a rumor. Or via a fist to my beautiful face.”

There is a silence for two heartbeats, and then the bell signaling all students have four minutes to get to class shrills through the cafeteria. Jake grabs his things and flees, head ducked, posture slouched. Time for PE. Joy.

The rest of the day is shit, just like any other day. Jolene is his highlight, and since she is taking college courses for massage therapy and physical therapy, Jake allows her to practice some maneuvers on his shoulders and neck. As reward, she also rubs at his tired muscles and screwed up kneecap in his left leg. She tells him he should stand and sit straight; it is hell on his muscles and postures. He mumbles back about making himself a larger target. She remains quiet while cheerleaders whisper and giggle to themselves about her touching him.

He doesn’t mention the proposition from her boyfriend and his friends.

It’s a good day when Jake walks out of school at the end without new injuries. The blonde hugs his bag close to his body, and he hurries down the ten concrete steps that lead from the school down to the sidewalk leading out of the invisible line of school property to public property. He pauses when he sees that at the end of the twenty foot expanse of school-property-sidewalk that breaks into a T to join the city sidewalk, Pooch, Roque, Jolene, and Cougar are all gathered together.

Cougar leans against a tree, listening to Jolene while Roque stands beside him and Pooch leans back against his car, hand tucked in the pretty ebony beauty’s jeans’ back pocket. They’re all more casual, relaxed, and Cougar’s hat is in place atop his head, hiding most of his natural, luxurious curls. Jolene has pulled her own soft curls up into a scrunchy at the back of her head. Roque looks less likely to kill someone, and Pooch is perfectly relaxed with his girl close to him.

He hesitates, unsure of his welcome. Two years ago, this would have been easy for him. Sure, he’d always been an oddball, but he’d had friends, people he was effortlessly comfortable with. Now he’s awkward and unsure, like a shy horse, and he doesn’t remember how he made human-to-human connections. What used to come naturally is stilted and halting, not near as confident.

“Jake!” Jolene calls, having noticed him, and she waves him closer with a smile, unaware that she had startled him from his introverted debate. The other three turn to look and grin at him.

Jake slowly makes his way over, heart pounding irrationally despite knowing he’s safe. Jolene is fierce and has a black belt in karate, so he’s sure she’d defend him, at least long enough for him to sprint to safety, but old habits don’t die easily; they’re like damned zombies that keep coming until a bullet splatters their brains.

“Hey man,” Pooch greets once he’s hobbled close enough without having to be shouted at. “Got any plans today?”

He blinks, slowly, once. “Go home. Feed the stray cats near our place. Homework. Movies. Dinner, shower, video games with Janelle, and bed. That’s about it.” His daily routine unless Janelle had other ideas, was at work late, or had a potential boyfriend over; those nights, he usually made himself scarce.

“You wanna join us at the cinemas?” Jolene asks, leaning into Pooch. “It’s the weekend, and you could use some human interaction beyond the internet.”

Today seems to be the day to make Jake speechless and blink like a dumbass. He licks his lips, thinking quickly. He wants to. He wants so much to _hang out_ with people who like him. He can be sure nothing bad will happen with Jolene around. He resists sucking on his lip.

“Sure, I’ll go,” he says finally. “I gotta go home first though. Gotta tell Janelle, feed the cats. Change my clothes, grab some money.” He dodges out of the path of a group of popular students.

“How far away do you live?” Pooch asks curiously.

“Six miles that way.” He points to the right down the sidewalk.

“ _Six miles_? How do you get to and from here? You never get off any buses.”

“I walk,” he answers easily. “Well half-walk, half-jog. If it rains, Janelle drives me here. The exercise is good for my physical therapy routines. We’ll see how I react to the winters here before we do anything during that season. My knee didn’t react too well to the cold in New Hampshire.” He shifts the bag on his shoulder. Taking a few steps, he limps a little closer. “If I full out run, I can do a mile in six minutes.”

“Dude, that is not bad,” Roque says, grinning widely, clearly impressed. Jake silently thanks him for not adding “for being a gimp.” A six minute mile run was impressive even for someone who is fully healthy and capable.

Cougar, who is wearing his hat low over his brow now, nods, eyes sparkling beneath his brim.

“You learn to run fast when you’re running for your life, even with a handicap,” the blonde replies, grinning as if it’s not a big deal.

“Hey Jensen, why don’t you hop in?” Pooch says, gesturing to his prized ’Vette behind him. “I’ll give you a ride home, and then we’ll pick you up when we’re all ready to go.”

This time, Jake doesn’t waste time hesitating. He hated himself for it, and if he wants to get anywhere with this friend-making business, he’ll have to stop being such a pansy. “Sure. That’ll be great.” He grins, hoping it looks sincere despite his nervousness.

“Guys, isn’t he cute when he tries?” Jolene croons with a smile as she, Pooch, and he duck into the car. The guys laugh at the reddening in Jake’s ears. Then Roque and Cougar both head for Roque’s beat up hand-me-down Ford a block away on the other side of the street.

The three in the Corvette exchange phone numbers, and Jolene gives him Cougar’s and Roque’s. Since he knows Janelle will insist on it anyway, he gives them her cell number as well, composing a text to send with all of their numbers to his sister after he tells her about his new friends. He listens with mild interest to the lovers sitting up front, keeping an eye out for his house. He stops them and thanks them, promising he’ll be ready in two hours to go out with them.

Janelle is a little surprised when he walks into the house sooner than usual. “Hey Jake, how was school? You’re home early. You didn’t ditch early, did you?”

“Naw, sis, I caught a ride,” he says with a bright grin. He is safe here. He can be himself no matter what here. In fact, if he tried to act as he did in school within these four walls, he’d probably get slapped upside the head. Janelle loves him more than chocolate and would never hurt him. Sure, she cuffs him over the head occasionally, but it is never to truly hurt him. “I made new friends today.” He sounds very proud of himself, as though he had been the one to approach the group instead of the other way around.

Her eyes instantly brighten with awareness, more aqua thank Jake’s bright blue; her blonde hair was a little dirtier than his as well. “That’s great, Jay. I’m glad you’re making friends. Can they be trusted, or do I need to put the fear of God into them?” He can see the wrath of Hell ready to spit sparks from her eyes like an Unholy Avenger.

“Well, you like Jolene, right? One’s her boyfriend, and the other two are his _compadres_ ,” Jake explains, stripping off his button-down shirt and shoulder bag. “And one, his name is Cougar. He’s a fucking BAMF, Nelle, and he may or may not want to take my virginity. He’s hard to read, but I’m sure I can learn. He wears this sexy ass cowboy hat whenever he can, and he’s got that gorgeous soccer bod and yummy tan skin. And then there’s Roque. Bigger than me in every way and effin’ scary, but he says he wants to teach me how to protect myself so I don’t have to rely on you beatin’ the shit outta people who mess with me.”

Janelle watches and listens to the younger blonde’s excited babble, amusement clearly scrawled across her pretty face. She had told him a long while ago that she’ll gladly take his oftentimes enthusiastic albeit annoying monologue over his numbed silence and blank stares into space any day of the week. His often erratic gestures can even be the most amusing of all. She eventually stands and hugs him, cutting off the incessant stream of words.

“I’m so glad you have some people to hang with,” she says, smiling up at him. She is shorter only by two inches, tall for a woman. “And if Jolene likes all of them, I’m sure they’re outstanding, or at the very least terrified of her.”

Jake snorts, wholly agreeing.

“I expect the same level of fear of me from them, if not more. And cell phone numbers.”

Jake presses the send button on his phone for the text he’d made, transferring the contact information. He waves the device in a generic gesture. “Done.”

“Good. And I want you home by 1am. Midnight on school nights. I will blow up all phones and embarrass you to death if you are more than three minutes late, unless of course you call to warn me about a traffic problem or something, understand?”

“Yes. They want to take me to the movies tonight. Like a bonding activity, I guess. Or maybe all of them want me to participate in their freaky orgy in the back of the thea—”

Janelle grins and gives Jake a little shove, cutting off the end of the sentence. “Go get ready, you blonde buffoon.”

~*~~*~~*~

_Ultimately, they go to an action_ movie at the cinemas in the closest large city, about a 30minute drive. Because he and Roque are six feet and up, they sit in the back so there will be no cliché “hey you down in front” or theater snacks thrown at the backs of their heads—which would probably end in Roque’s arrest and multiple deaths. The seating goes Roque, Cougar, Jake, Jolene, and Pooch. He hunches in his seat and fiddles with his phone while Pooch fetches popcorn and drinks. He happily accepts a bucket, passing one down to Roque, and Pooch retains the third while all received a cup of whatever beverage they’d requested.

The actors are all new or those that hadn’t quite made it to famous celebrity status, so the plot and the acting are all substandard. Confident that Jolene will keep the others under control, Jake openly guffaws and snorts at the over-exaggerated—redundant, yes, but very sadly entirely accurate—expressions and gestures—one league away from the Power Rangers—and the dialogue, which leaves much to be desired. He normally chatters and provides commentary all through a movie, but he bites his lip or stuffs his face with food and drink to make sure he doesn’t.

The explosions and stunts make up for a lot of it though, and the group can almost forgive the flaws from that fact alone.

Twenty minutes in, Cougar reaches his hand into Jake’s popcorn bucket. Jake acquiesces easily and shifts the bucket to his left so it’s easier for the Mexicano to reach. Occasionally, their fingers brush against each other as they both reach inside simultaneously. He doesn’t think anything of it.

But then tanned fingers gently caress the hand and wrist of Jake’s left arm, which has remained still on his arm rest, only providing a prop for the bucket to keep it from dumping onto the floor. The blonde blinks and pauses, distracted from the movie briefly. He waits, realizing he hadn’t imagined it when it happens again. He pretends to not notice, stuffing his mouth with popcorn and gluing his eyes and half his attention on the movie screen, body throbbing not just from the pounding of gunshot and explosions roaring through the speakers.

The barely-there skimming of fingertips against his skin grows bolder after several long minutes. Now, instead of just fingertips, Cougar has upgraded to using his full hand. He strokes over Jake’s forearm, hand, and fingers. The fine hairs on both of his arms raise, and a shiver skates down his torso. A quick glance over tells him that Cougar is watching both the screen and him. He ducks his head at the older male’s pleased smirk.

Well, that answers the question of what Cougar wants with him. Now he wants to know if this will be something to last, if Cougar is someone he can bring home to Mama—or Janelle, as it were. Or will the Latin hottie want to just be fuck buddies occasionally? He’s not really keen on engaging in a meaningless fling and then having to pretend that nothing carnal had happened between them when they are with their friends.

The question of whether he is interested back is moot. He thanks heaven that he’s in a dark room with a popcorn bucket balanced on his lap. He thanks his sister for buying these baggy pants that allow freedom and comfort.

He shifts very minutely to adjust his erection.

Jake stretches his fingers out, testing his brains ability to still command voluntary movement and his muscles. Cougar’s fingers slip between his easily at the silent invitation, and they naturally intertwine, warm against each other. Jake swallows, takes a drink from slightly watered down Mountain Dew, and releases a calming breath. Experimentally, he brushes his thumb upward, despite the awkwardness of the movement, against what flesh he can reach, gently stroking Cougar’s hand.

Cougar releases his hand, turns their arms carefully so their palms can press warmly together, and links their fingers once again. Jake shudders and lets a tiny smile cross his face. He rubs his thumb with the limited contact and comfortable companionship.

Jolene pats his leg at some point, both to let him know that she had been somewhat aware of what happened and to encourage him. Jake gives her a weak grin in reply, out of his element. Cougar, seemingly aware of everything, squeezes his hand to soothe him.

The movie ends after two hours and twenty-four minutes, and Jake’s not quite sure how the director had had enough budget for it. He suspects he had to give head to a _lot_ of the staff and sponsors just to get them to fund for a single hour; maybe full-on penetrative sex to the big-wigs was what made it swing.

They walk out of the theater after the majority of the other movie-goers have filed out. Jake had expected Cougar to let go of his hand once the lights brightened, and they all stood. However, the Latino retains the grip, guiding Jake out of the aisle and down the few steps to get to the corridor, ultimately leading the way to the exit.

More nervous than embarrassed—hell, if still holding his sister’s hand didn’t embarrass him, why would holding a boy’s hand?—the blonde ducks his head and gnaws on his lower lip. Jolene, behind him, giggles and pats his back, which doesn’t help anything, really. Roque and Pooch frown and look back as a result, and then both black men acquire shit-eating grins.

Jake breaks away and ducks into the bathroom, choosing a stall to hide in for a second.

He feels like a loser, sitting in there like a hormonal, distraught teenage girl. He breathes deeply and forces calm to spread through him. He has a shot at making some good friends here, and quite possibly a long-term boyfriend. He doesn’t need to fuck it up by having a pissy ass panic attack, regardless of how uncomfortable he had become all at once.

He calms down more quickly than he has with past panic attacks, glad he didn’t need a paper bag for hyperventilation, mostly by just bulling right through it. He uses the facilities while he’s there, washes his hands, splashes his face, and cleans his glasses. The four of them are waiting for him, and Jolene’s expression is concerned. He fights a blush and rubs the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. He eases back to Cougar’s side as he addresses all of them. “I’m not used to having friends, let alone being ribbed for holding hands with one.” He straightens a little. “I’ll adjust eventually. Hopefully soon. Just have a little patience, please.” His hand drops, and his pinky subtly brushes Cougar’s hand in silent question.

Cougar responds by taking his hand as though they’d never parted. He smiles over at Cougar gratefully, and there is a gleam in the other teen’s warm chocolate eyes. Jolene’s smile looks like it’s about to split her face if she doesn’t cool it down.

“So who’s up for some chow?” Pooch asks, breaking the tension. “There’s that new sushi bar here in the mall.”

“Babe, not everyone likes sushi like we do,” Jolene reminds in a patient tone, patting his bicep. They start walking through the mall, window-shopping, passing easily through the swarms of other people. “We should try for some place everyone can agree to.”

“Pizza’s good,” Roque suggests, and Cougar nods.

“What about you, Jensen?” Pooch asks, his arm curved around Jolene’s back.

“I’ll eat anything that looks and smells relatively fresh,” the techie replies with a shrug as he bends a little to look in a window of a shop with game systems. He straightens at Cougar’s gentle tug to his hand, indicating the others had kept moving. He whines but moves on anyway.

“Pizza it is then,” Pooch says with a nod.

They wander around a little longer, chattering and browsing through what the mall has to offer. For the first time in forever, Jake feels like a normal teen, even though he’s _not_ , and the internal pain and nervousness, the bone-deep insecurity, starts to ease, losing the death grip it has had on his organs for two years. Without realizing it, Jake sinks into the easy, ever-flowing conversations he often gets into with Janelle and leans into Cougar, as though they’d been boyfriends for months rather than only a day. He refrains from swinging their arms between them like eight-year-old girls do with their besties.

He’s pretty confident and certain at this point that Cougar is in it a little deeper than just a fuck-buddy situation. One does not hold a fuck-buddy’s hand all over a heavily populated mall, no matter how much they want to boink.

They finally stop at a pizza place. Jake orders a small veggie pizza to take home to Janelle. He and Cougar share one with pepperoni, bell pepper, banana pepper, mushroom, and onion. Pooch and Jolene get a Hawaiian special, and Roque scarfs a meat lovers’ pizza. They all pile into a booth to eat, the veggie pizza packed in a box in a plastic bag.

Around 8:30, they all decide to call it a night and head back home. Unlike how they arrived, Roque volunteers to ride home with Pooch and Jolene, leaving Jake to take the back seat of Cougar’s Harley Davidson. They tuck the pizza into a side bag along with the Latino’s precious hat, waving as Pooch leaves the parking lot before them. Cougar hands Jake a helmet, grinning as he watches the blonde strap it in place. He does the same, and they both mount the bike. Cougar drags Jake’s hands from his hips to firmly wrap his arms around his trim waist, and then he speeds off.

This is the first time on a motorcycle, and the ride is exhilarating. The machine humming beneath him as the wind rushes past gives him a heady and breathless feeling. As close as he is to the man, what breath he can get is invaded by the scent of Cougar’s skin and hair: his shampoo must be a generic almond scent, but the rest of him smells like the more earthy spices common in Mexican dishes—like oregano—leather that was mostly from his jacket and hat, and male musk. It’s an awesome combo, and Jake will forever be amazed and thankful that he doesn’t pop a stiffy against Cougar’s back the whole way home.

Cougar starts the way home just under the speed limit, testing Jake’s reaction. Then he bumps up to exactly the speed limit. By the time they enter the Podunk town, he’s at risk of getting a speeding ticket if a cop catches them. Jake laughs, excited, the danger in the action heady and addicting. He clings to Cougar, loving the power and control he can feel thrumming through the smaller male’s body.

He’s giddy and hard-pressed not to giggle like a girl when they arrive outside his place, and he stumbles off the bike. He takes off the helmet, grinning like a fool as Cougar does the same, and he gasps as he’s suddenly pulled down into a kiss.

As kisses go, this one is pretty tame. His only comparison, of course, is his first kiss in middle school by a boy who wasn’t sure if he was gay or not, and he’d been rough and uncoordinated; turns out he was, but he wasn’t that into Jake—too bubbly and hyperactive for the sedate, serious kid. A simple press of lips, lush and soft, noses rubbing each other’s cheeks. Jake’s eyes drift shut after the initial second of shock, leaning into the shorter body. One hot hand cups the back of his neck, the other circles around his lower back. Jake grabs whatever he can, most just handfuls of Cougar’s leather jacket.

They break the kiss, lightly panting, and Jake smiles, face flushed as he beams. Cougar’s warm eyes have a spark of affection and lust, and the blonde gets the feeling that Cougar has been watching him and imagining this for a while. No way could the Latino be this invested him otherwise.

“So, um, this isn’t just a one-off, right?” Jake asks, feeling like this is too important not to ask right now. “We’ll be doing a lot more hand holding, cuddling, and kissing in the future. Not just this night.”

“ _Sí_ ,” Cougar responds with a devilish grin that would make most girls swoon. All it does for Jake is make him harder and his knees, even his good one, feel a little like jelly.

“And I’m not a side bitch, right?” Jake presses. If he gets it all out now, he won’t need to worry and mull over it and eventually just break down and ask later down the road when he’s too emotionally invested to be safe from the answer. “I’m not going to be attacked by an angry _chica_ or _chico_ later on because she or he thinks I stole their man.”

“ _Nunca_ ,” is the reply, accompanied by the hand to the arm wrapped around his back slipping under his shirt just enough to touch the skin on the small of his back.

“You won’t have to hide me from your family, will you? I hear that traditional Mexican and Mexican-American families are strictly Catholic, complete with homophobic tendencies, and let’s not forget about the movies that tell me that Mexicans hate _gringos_.”

“My family will love you,” he replies. “ _Mis hermanos mayores_ are already married, two with children, and there was no blow up in _mi familia_ when _uno de mis dos hermanas_ came out as lesbian.” His thumb rubs the blonde’s paler flesh, as though fascinated. “And we would have left to go to Mexico or Spain if we did not like _gringos_.”

“One last stupid question,” Jake promises. “My being a white boy won’t be a problem, right? Because all jokes aside and disregarding your reassurances about not hating _gringos_ , I’m about as white as white can get without being a ghost.”

“I had not noticed,” Cougar teases with a grin. “No, being a white boy will not be a problem.” He leans up to kiss Jake softly once more.

Jake quite happily returns the kiss in full, eyes closing contentedly. He ignores the heat pooling low in his groin. He personally knows he’s not ready for that, even if teenage hormones that he represses quite often deny all claims. He nuzzles Cougar when their lips part, seeking contact even when not kissing. “I now know that kissing is _awesome_.”

Cougar chuckles, pecking a kiss to Jake’s jaw. “ _Sí. Besar es muy agradable._ ”

“I am so glad I took Spanish year before last,” Jake mutters wryly. “I’m a little rusty since it’s been a while since I’ve had to use it, but I get the gist of most of what you say. Once I brush up, you and I can have full conversations in Spanish and confuse our friends with Spanglish. Like a secret language almost.”

“ _Estoy deseando_.”

“So now you’re just going to speak in Spanish, eh? Jerk.” He reaches into the side bag for the pizza he’d purchased for Janelle. “Would you like to come by tomorrow? We can hang out, and you meet Janelle. She’ll give you the ‘hurt my brother, I hurt your face’ speech, then promptly try to seduce you with cookies and fudge. Of course at that point, I will have to protect your honor.” His blue eyes twinkle mischievously in the night.

“ _Sería un honor conocer a tu hermana. ¿Cuándo sería un buen momento para venir?_ ” He tilts his head a little, trying to look innocent as he deliberately speaks in Spanish. Obviously he is delighted at having a boyfriend who can speak his native language.

“Any time after one,” Jake says after a moment. It had taken that long for his mental Babel Fish to translate. “Nelle and I play video games till late on Fridays, and if you try waking her before noon on a Saturday, not even the sweet baby Jesus can save you. Waiting till one will give her enough time to transition from evil zombie to caffeinated, generally happy human.” He grins broadly.

“Should I call before I come over? I don’t want to be rude.”

“Naw, you can just come on over. I’ll let Janelle know when I go in that we’re going to have visitor tomorrow. Don’t call unless you aren’t coming.” _Don’t leave me hanging_ is implied.

“Okay, I will see you tomorrow then. _Buenas noches, cariño._ ” He kisses Jake again, and through the resulting fuzz in his head, Jake vows he will initiate one of these kisses eventually. He can’t have Cougar doing all the work.

“Night. Oh hey, Cougs. You can call me Jake in private, okay?”

Cougar smiles and nods, clearly pleased with this privilege. He heads home, and Jake stays on the sidewalk, watching the male speed away until he is completely out of sight. He heads inside, walking on a happy cloud, to babbly about his night to his very happy sister. She makes fun of his kiss-swollen lips, which he didn’t know was a thing, and he retaliates by pulverizing her brutally in the games they play until 1am.

“I’m a little surprised that you got yourself a Latin lover,” Janelle remarks at one point after a bite of her re-warmed pizza. “I’m not sure what I expected, even though I knew you’re gay, because come on, who doesn’t know? But I gotta say that I wholeheartedly approve.”

“What? Did you think I’d get a nice strong black man and be his shorty?” Jake teases. He hangs on the couch upside down with a Twizzler hanging outside his mouth, playing single-player Mario Cart for a while so his sister could eat and just watch. “Or maybe you thought I’d get me a sugar daddy that wants me to dress up in drag for him in exchange for paying for my college tuition.”

“That last bit sounds plausible, although I’m not sure you’d look too awesome dressed in women’s clothing. You can’t really pull it off unless you shave off that goatee thing you have going on there.” Janelle pokes his face, smearing a small bit of sauce on his skin.

“I rock anything I swear, thank you very much. I bet I could look fantastic in drag!”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

Jake plays online games after she retires for the night. It hits four in the morning before he actually drags himself to bed, and his dreams are filled with Cougar kisses, which he’s sure are the best kisses in the galaxy. They haven’t even gotten to tongue yet, and he’s already willing to bet money on it.

He takes a cold show to get rid of his morning wood after waking at 11am. Once clean and dressed in blue plaid pajama bottoms and a comfy white T, Jake pads barefoot to the kitchen. He pours himself cereal and fetches the Saturday newspaper to set on the table for Miss Not-A-Morning-Person. Allowing coffee to percolate in the machine, Jake eats his cereal and reads the funnies, carefully putting the section back exactly as he had found it. Just before noon, he sets out her mug with the grumpy kitten and the words “I hate mornings” and the Cinnabon coffee creamer she likes so much, both within in arms reach of the coffee machine.

At exactly 12:01pm, Janelle makes her appearance, and she drags herself to the coffee machine. Jake slices a grapefruit in half, places it on a plate and sprinkles it with sugar. He sets the plate in front of her once Janelle has seated herself. Lastly, he sets a spoon within her reach and skedaddles from the kitchen to the living room.

Half an hour later has him sitting on the floor between couch and coffee table, homework strewn across the table’s surface. His cell phone is at one corner, and his laptop sat open on the other side. His noise cancelling headphones are plugged into the laptop, and he listens to Spanish review material to brush up on the language. He can feel his sister’s amused gaze in the back of his head, but he blocks it out, totally focused, occasionally muttering to himself as he practices.

He is completely in the zone and unaware of anything and everything around him for close to an hour and a half. He never realizes Cougar arrives around two, and Janelle leads the Hispanic male to the kitchen. She quietly lays out her rules:

No sex until Jake is 18, which is Texas’ age of consent. She doesn’t care if they kiss in front of her, and she doesn’t care if they grope and dryhump as long as it is all over the clothes and not within her line of sight—she delights at the darkening of his skin, indicating a blush of embarrassment at her descriptive phrasing. No drugs, no alcohol, no involving her baby brother in any crimes. She describes in great detail what she can and will do to him if he abuses Jake or takes advantage of him, and then details her ability to hide a body if he breaks Jake’s heart.

By the time she is through, Cougar both has a profound respect for her and fodder for new nightmares for the next month or so.

Just as predicted last night, Janelle then plies him with homemade cookies and the best fudge he has ever had. She doesn’t make a move to seduce him as suggested, but she does practically stuff him with them, like she’s trying to fatten him up.

Satisfied, Janelle tells him that she needs to go out for a while and will eventually come back with groceries. She shows him where the bathroom is, then leaves him alone with an engrossed Jake, her pointed expression telling him that he had best stick to the rules laid out so nicely for him.

Cougar looks at the décor and the pictures hanging on the walls. When ten minutes go by, and Jake is still scribbling on a notebook while flipping through an Advanced History text, the Latino goes over and sits down close. He removes one side of the headphones and buries his tongue in Jake’s newly exposed ear.

Jake squawks in surprise, flinching, and flails. Cougar grins, a shit-eating grin, as blue eyes turn on him, wide and astonished. The Latino waggles his eyebrows teasingly.

“Cougs! Hi! When did you get here?” His face is flushed bright red, and he tries to recover gracefully, which really isn’t possible. He glances around. “Where’s Janelle?”

Cougar scoots a little closer, arm wrapping around the blonde. “I have been here since 1:45pm. I met your sister, was properly dressed down, given cookies and fudge, and then she left to run errands. You are at my mercy.”

“So I’m a defenseless rabbit to your cougar?” Jake asks, smiling. He closes up his homework and powers down the laptop. “Did you act terrified in the face of Janelle’s awesome force?”

“I did not have to act.”

“Yeah, I know. She’s terrifying. Although she must get the vibe that she can trust you if she left you alone with me in her precious house.”

The shorter male grins and nuzzles Jake’s neck. Jake shudders in his embrace, turning his head to allow the caresses. It seems that at least _his_ Latino boyfriend is very affectionate; Jake loves this fact. It means there will be many cuddles in the future. As a tactile person, he really couldn’t ask for more.

The blonde shifts in discomfort. “My butt’s numb. Wanna move up onto the couch?” At Cougar’s nod, he reaches back to shove a game controller to the side. They both plop down on the comfortable four-person couch.

The next hour is spent chatting and learning of each other, cuddling an almost sickening amount, and laying gentle kisses on each other’s exposed skin, occasionally sneaking caresses under shirts and along the waistbands of each other’s trousers. Jake skims over the events that had landed him in the hospital last year and why he has a limp, let’s Cougar trace old scars on his arms and back. He can feel the anger radiating off the male, knows he would probably take out Jensen Senior if the man wasn’t already in prison and in New Hampshire, nowhere near Texas. In turn, Cougar tells him of his mostly normal childhood in a family that consists of his grandparents from both sides, his mother, father, two sisters and three brothers. He is the baby of the family, and he has two nieces and three nephews. Family dinners are hectic at his home, apparently.

It never occurs to Jake that they may be moving too fast, at least in regards to the touchy-feeliness part of their relationship. To him, it’s better than just beating around the bush for a month or more before finally admitting or giving into what they want. Why waste time? Besides he knows Cougar has been silently watching and learning a lot about him from a distance for a while anyway. Learn about your prey before you make your move and all that.

He chooses not to be creeped out by the stalker-ish characteristics of the knowledge, chalking it up to Cougar’s instincts.

“What do you want to do when you escape from high school?” Jake asks. He has his Nintendo 3DS XL, playing a Pokémon game, sprawling between Cougar’s toned legs, back against his chest, and the back of his head cradled in his clavicle. The perfect picture of domestic gay boys.

Cougar combs his hands through Jake’s short blonde hair thoughtfully. His hands are always in some kind of contact with his skin or hair. He hums. “I am not sure. I have a scholarship with soccer. I’m not sure what exactly I am interested in. I am good at welding, but I’ve also an interest in guns. I used to think the Army would be a good choice, but maybe I can go into police force instead. Maybe SWAT team.”

Jake hums and checks through his team, healing the ones that had taken damage in the last battle. “I’m prolly gonna go into graphics design or communications. Or become a professional hacker for the FBI or CIA. Or something. Not quite sure yet what I want either.” He rolls his head to look up at his cowboy hat-wearing companion. “If this thing between us lasts, I’d like to be close to you with whatever we decide to do. If at all possible. I’m going to make sure not to get my hopes up, since anything can happen, but still.”

He crosses his ankles and wiggles his bare toes, turning back to his Nintendo. “Hell, if Roque can teach me to be a badass, maybe I can join you in the Army. I’m good at faking my limp, even when it really hurts. What do you think?”

“ _Creo que puedes hacer lo que propongas a, mi querido_ ,” Cougar responds, kissing the top of Jake’s head.

“ _Eres un dulce hablador, amable señor_ ,” Jake says in reply. He’s still a little dissatisfied with the flatness of his accent, but it makes Cougar chuckle, so he’ll let it go for now. Can’t be that bad, he reasons.

“ _Su Español no es malo, mi amigo._ ”

“ _Estaba tomando un curso intensive cuando lamió mi oreja._ ”

Cougar chuckles, momentarily squeezing his thighs to cradle Jake a little tighter, letting go after a few seconds. “ _¿Quiere que yo lo haga otra vez?_ ”

“ _Tal vez más tarde, mi amigo_ ,” Jake mumbles, ears reddening.

“It’s like a Spanish soap opera in here,” Janelle says, startling both men. They hadn’t heard her come in! She laughs at them, eyes twinkling merrily. “All right, _muchachos_ , help me carry in the groceries.”

~*~~*~~*~

_High school is no longer a_ living hell. It’s no longer about going in with his head down, doing his work, and keeping to himself, and going home as fast as he can. Now Jake gets picked up every morning either by Pooch or Cougar, although he insists on walking at least three miles to keep up the regular exercise with his bum leg, trying to strengthen it; he hangs with the group the ten to fifteen minutes before home period begins. He has at least one class with each of them, he realizes, and they make a point of sitting close to him, as he still doesn’t like sitting anywhere other than a corner where he can see anyone who decides to approach.

He helps Roque bring up his grades in Trigonometry, goofs off with Pooch in Advanced History, and tries not to let Cougar distract him too much in English; surprisingly, he excels in foreign languages, but English is a fucked up language. He wishes that one of them attended PE with him, as now the bullies try to single him out here. He hides his bruises well, thankful for the “no nudity” rule his sister has set up, and keeps himself from getting injured too badly. Coach Clay, thankfully, puts a stop to most of the shenanigans, especially the worst of them, but he can’t be there all the time.

A bonus to the “protection” he receives from his friends is the lightening of Janelle’s stress lines. She’s saving money since she no longer has to buy anti-aging creams, he often jokes with her, to which she responds by throwing soft objects like couch cushions and small fruits at his head.

Jake develops an after-school routine as well. Mondays and Thursdays are dedicated to watching and admiring Cougar at soccer practices, becoming honorary hat protector up in the bleachers. Watching that sleek, well-muscled body skillfully kick the ball across the field and maneuver expertly in and out of the other bodies around him, sweat-slick and powerful, does uncomfortably wonderful things to his body; his libido practically purrs. It’s all he can do to keep from drooling.

It’s also all he can do to keep himself from launching into a catfight when the cheerleaders try to hang off of him.

Tuesdays are spent with Roque and Pooch, both of whom are teaching him self-defense, hand-to-hand combat, mild wrestling maneuvers, and how to use a knife to make his opponents wet themselves. Roque does most of the battle tutorials, and though Pooch _does_ help out, his main contribution and focus is helping Jake bulk up to add power behind the maneuvers and strengthen the weaker, injured leg. Additionally, he takes it upon himself to help Jake learn how to drive.

In turn, Jake teaches the men how to swim without embarrassing themselves or having to be confined to the shallow end—the bitch end—of the pool and improves their computers’ speed, performance, and data capacity. During downtime from work, Janelle stops by Roque’s father’s gym and teaches the whole group a few combat moves from the Army.

Wednesday is Jolene’s day to teach him how to either cook, do karate, or receive some massage therapy from her—helping ease his pain and tension while allowing her to gain hands-on experience for her future job. She was truly getting amazing with her hands in a totally nonsexual way. He took a class with her for Adult and Pediatric First Aid/CPR/AED. The two of them go so far as to certify themselves through American Red Cross and American Heart Association to be sure they have all skills downpat.

Ultimately, Jake is becoming a BAMF that can beat the hell out of his opponents, and then save their lives once he’s done.

Fridays are their hangout nights. There is never a limit to the fun they can get themselves into, even if they’re only hanging at one of their houses. Jake easily won over the hearts of all of his friends’ families, and Cougar’s _madre_ has taken to calling him her _pequeño hijo rubio_. Jake sometimes has to pinch himself, when no one is looking, to make sure he won’t wake up and vanish from this too-good-to-be-true reality. The whole group is flawed, but they strengthen each other, and those strengths and the bonds between them create something like an impenetrable force-field against the outside world.

One of the most amazing things to him is his relationship with Cougar. They are slowly becoming a whole, perfectly balanced between Cougar’s silence and Jake’s babbling. Cougar—Carlos in their private moments—never puts a front on in public, even though the usual dynamic of a small town in America is stereotypical, judgmental, and the slightest bit racist. The Latino cares not a whit for that mess. Though they’re mostly chaste, they still hold hands in public, share little kisses, sit closer than two men normally would—or at least what’s “socially acceptable.” He has no care for others seeing their affection and bond, although they don’t rub people’s faces in it, and homophobic slurs and mocking sneers seem to roll off him like water off a duck’s back.

Jake takes strength from it, revels in it, and does everything in his power to give back to Cougar, to make sure his Latino boyfriend knows that Jake loves and returns everything tenfold. He tries to put his own unique spin on their relationship, and he does his own little contributions in secret—the only thing he has ever done that could be qualified as subtle. He also takes care of the other male: keeps him fed, makes sure he keeps up with his studies when he’s otherwise distracted by something not blonde and loquacious, brushes his hair when Cougar gets too frustrated the tangled mass of thick curls he refuses to cut, and massaging the tension out of his back with some of the tips he’s gotten from Jolene.

Jake is slowly becoming at peace with the world as a whole.

~*~~*~~*~

_Today, Coach Clay has everyone doing_ rope climbs. It’s no one’s favorite activity, especially since everyone thought that the activity had been pretty much nixed from curriculum in the 1970-1980s, but it’s required for their end grade according to the PE teacher. It’s not necessary to make it to the top—a thirty-foot climb. The first bell is at 21 feet, the second at 25, and the third at the very top.

The bullies have been getting restless, and it makes Jake nervous as hell. They haven’t gotten a good shot at him in forever; and there aren’t any other “losers” in this class today. Some of them are frustrated that a few times in the past month or so, Jensen the Techno Bitch had actually fought back and came out on the winning end, despite his limp. Prey is supposed to flee or cringe, not break a nose in self-defense.

Jake watches a few of his other classmates climb up, most of them just barely able to make it to the first bell, and so far only one, a basketball player, has made it to the highest point. The class, about forty-five people, is divided into girls and boys. As per usual, Coach Clay is watching the girls closely, overprotective of the female sex as shit, and probably a little pervy to boot; he’s fresh out of college, about twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, and teenagers have been looking older than their true age for at least two generations.

Finally, it’s Jake’s turn, and he fights to keep his nervousness from showing. He can feel the jocks’ eyes leering over him, like coyotes watching defenseless prey, except the soccer players, who know better than to fuck with Cougar’s _novio_.

A heavy stone drops into his stomach. Just as he starts up, one of the cheerleaders starts causing a scene, claiming vertigo and an anxiety attack that requires someone to climb up and help her down before she falls. Jake recognizes her as one of the football players’ girlfriend; if he remembered correctly—stupid notion, what with his eidetic memory—she belongs to Wade Travis, the worst of his tormentors. When he hits the fifteen-foot marker, he feels the rope in his hands ripple.

He pauses, glancing down. His heart jumps. The bastard has the rope in his hand, grinning sadistically up at him as he swings and shakes it, trying to make Jake lose his grip. The bimbo is running distraction while Assholio is trying to kill him.

Gritting his teeth, determined to complete this exam, Jake continues to drag his 170-pound body higher. He’s grateful for the training Pooch and Roque have given him the past seven weeks; otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to drag his body this high. He wishes he has a knife to chuck at Wade Travis. Just through the fucking hand that’s fucking with the rope. He yelps when said rope jerks hard. He makes it to the first bell, and it tinkles weakly as he brushes past it on the way up.

“Knock him down, Wade!” one of the idiot’s flunkies shouts, earning himself a kick from a different, smarter one—if there is such a thing.

There’s another hard jerk, and the rope burns his palms and fingers as he slides down four inches. “ _Pendejo!_ ” he snarls, clinging tightly to keep himself from sliding down further. Sweat slides down his face and makes a damp spot down his spine. Laughter wafts up to him, and his lungs burn with effort while his blood burns with rage.

“Travis! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Coach Clay snarls, catching on to what is happening. Wade’s friends form a wall and keep the other man from getting close enough to stop him; apparently they’re all muscleheads just like Wade. How quaint. “Aisha, go get help!” Clay barks to an Arabic exchange student, who nods and speeds out at lightning speed.

Jake shouts as he nearly loses his grip again. He pauses and breathes deeply, then continues past the second bell. Just a few more feet…

“This bitch don’t get it,” one of the Latino football players complains, squinting up at him.

“Yeah, we’ll get him down,” Wade promises with a chuckle. He begins swirling the rope in a circle, and it jostles around wherever Jake puts his hands.

Clay and the soccer players are trying to get past the ’roid heads. Clay can’t legally strike a minor; otherwise, judging by his expression when Jake glances down, he’d be swinging fists and downing the bastards with no problem.

Relief washes over him as Jake reaches up and rings the cowbell at the top. His enthusiasm and triumph pisses Wade off, because really, how dare he make an effort to excel at PE? He and the Mexican from before both jerk and swing the rope as Jake starts to inch down.

The rope burns as he slides down six inches against his will, and he shouts in fright. He can hear his heart pound, and the sweat slicks down his back, his head, and unfortunately, his palms. He’s scrambling to get down before he falls, but now there’s four people working against him.

Aisha runs in with three security guards and the ex-marine shop teacher in tow. They break up the wall of football players, but Wade runs with the rope in his hand, and Jake’s body dangles by hands only as the rope is shifted away from him at that angle. One last tug and wiggle, and the rope is ripped from Jake’s hands at 20 feet.

The girls all scream, Clay curses, and Jake feels like he’s freefalling in slow motion, the ceiling getting further away at an alarming rate all at the same time. There’s sickening thud, lancing pain, then nothing.

~*~~*~~*~

_The next time he’s aware, it_ takes a few moments to realize where he’s at. Blue eyes blink, taking in white walls and a dimmed light. A short glance around tells him that it’s nighttime. He shifts and is suddenly aware of a terrible pain in his head, neck, and shoulder. He wiggles his fingers and toes and lets out a soft breath of relief when he verifies that, yes, he _can_. No spinal injury or paralysis then.

Gauze is wrapped around his palms and fingers, except for the tips, most likely because of his rope burn. His head feels swollen and a little fuzzy. The pain on the left side of his neck and the corresponding shoulder feels more like a tear and dull ache. Why is it always his left side getting the brunt of his injuries?

Finally, he looks more closely at what’s in the room. He can’t see much without his glasses, but he can make out the form of his sister slumped over his bed close to his leg. She’s sleeping, and it makes him wonder how long she’s been there. Or, rather, how long _he’s_ been there. After brief contemplation, he shifts his leg and nudges her carefully.

She’s awake instantly, Army training never going slack. “Hey, beautiful,” he greets, leaning his head back to rest his neck. “How long have I been here?”

“Hey,” she murmurs, smiling a little wanly. She grasps his hand. “You’ve been unconscious for about ten hours. You have a severe concussion and are recovering from a dislocated shoulder, some torn tendons. You’re lucky you didn’t die, you little shit, but Clay says you twisted yourself before you landed so the brunt of the fall was on your shoulder instead of your thick skull.”

“Cougar didn’t kill them, did he?” Jake asks worriedly, brows furrowed. “I don’t have to be one of those wives that visit their convict husbands in jail and smuggle in contraband, do I? Although, let’s be honest, he’d prolly only want your fudge and Snickers and Twix bars.”

“Wisely, none of your friends were told until those heathen bastards were arrested and out of reach. However, Jolene gave that little cheerleader whore a shiner and ripped out her extensions.” The smirk on her face speaks volumes for the approval and pride she feels for Jolene. “Cougar was dragged home by his family an hour ago.”

She straightens and grabs her phone, presumably to send a text to anyone who cares that Jake is awake. “Wade and the Latino are being charged with aggravated assault, deadly conduct, abuse of a minor, and child endangerment. The five others are being charged with accessory and some other minor shit.” She scoots her chair closer to him. “You’ve been excused from school for the rest of the week. Mostly cuz I raised hell.”

“Did I pass the challenge in PE?” He can’t remember if he made it to the top before tumbling to the bottom.

“With flying colors. You know, I had hoped that after I got you in my custody, there would be no more hospital stays,” Janelle says wetly, trying to joke and not cry. Her eyes are dark with worry as she looks at his banged up form.

“Believe me, sis, I would’ve gladly made that wish come true,” Jake says softly. “Some asshat is always screwing that up for me.”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m just tired.”

“Hey, at least it’s only a 24-hour visit, right? Last time, I was there for a month.” He smiles, trying to make his sister feel better about this crappy situation. He can only imagine how hard this is for her, although he’s sure it feels similar to what he experienced when she was overseas and unable to even shoot him a text.

He seems to succeed though. She gives him a weak smile and pats his uninjured arm. “I’m gonna go get the nurse.”

“Mkay.”

The nurse checks on his vitals and gets him a Gatorade and a straw to sip from. The doctor stops by to explain his injuries, which he says are truly minor in the grand scheme of things, considering what _could_ have happened. His maneuver in the air and the physical training his friends had given him had saved his life. No strenuous activity, wear the sling as often as possible, yadi-yada. He explains his medications, then leaves to continue his rounds.

At Jake’s urging, Janelle goes home. Tomorrow afternoon, he’ll be released if his concussion doesn’t worsen.

Of course, from his own awesomeness, Jake is released at 12:30pm the next day as if nothing bad had happened. By that time, half the nurses are in love with him—because he’s a sexy beast—and the others are ready to tape his mouth shut. After filling his prescriptions, Janelle takes him for some ice cream, and then for a new PS4 game, spoiling him, which tells him now truly terrified she’d been.

They get home, and Jake decides to take a nap for an hour or two. The doctor had said he’ll be lethargic for a while as his brain tries to recover from the trauma of the concussion. He’s awoken by a kiss and gentle stroking to his hair, and he sighs, smiles softly. His eyes blink open, and his smile broadens. “Hey, Carlos,” he murmurs. “Come to be my nurse?”

“ _Sí._ But after everyone else sees your sister has not brought home a corpse.” He kisses Jake’s cheek and helps him sit up.

“Maybe she has. We don’t know what those doctors did to me while Janelle was asleep.” Jake stands, grinning. “Maybe they turned me into a zombie. A sexy one. And I’ll eat the brains of criminals to cleanse the world of evil.”

Cougar chuckles as they move to the kitchen, Jake happily babbling and trying not to jerk his arm around it its sling. The whole gang is seated around the kitchen table, Jolene perched in Pooch’s lap. Janelle has served them soda, and she has a personal grill with hotdogs going and a pot of water boiling elbow pasta for macaroni and cheese.

“What’s he blabbing about?” Roque asks, standing to give Jake his seat, even though there is one other chair available. His words are gruff, but his eyes are looking Jake up and down, as though to inspect and make sure the doctor was _earning_ his money.

“He’s a sexy zombie that fights crime by eating villains’ brains,” Cougar summarizes. His hand gently combs through Jake’s hair, careful not to touch the swollen and bruised side of his head.

“Jolene, did Miss Thang have cheap extensions or the _really_ expensive ones?” Jake asks, reaching over to gently touch the hand that has gauze wrapped over the knuckles. “Look, we’re mummy soulmates.”

“Fake bitch is _cheap_ ,” Jolene says with a sneer, and then she laughs. “I thought you were a zombie.”

“Zombie mummy love~” he chirps. “Pooch and Cougs can be our consorts. And Roque is our blade-wielding badass palace guard.”

“Keep me out of your crazy zombie mummy shit,” Roque mutters. He’s taken over the grill while Janelle focuses on the macaroni.

“Is that jealousy I hear? Roque wishes he was as badass as m and Jo,” Jake confides in a stage-whisper to Cougar, who nods gravely in agreement, face straight. He squawks and flails, eyes bright and wide when Cougar plops his hat on Jake’s head. “ _Omigosh,_ loooook! Cougs is sharing and caring~”

“Jake, I think you need more painkillers once you’ve eaten,” Janelle says, amusement in her voice. She turns off the stove, drains the pasta, and dumps butter, milk, and a block of Velveeta cheese—cut into cubes—into the pot, stirring steadily to blend.

“But they make me sleepy,” Jake whines, pouting.

“And cuddly,” she adds. “Grabby like an octopus.”

“Well that’s okay. Cougar likes Jake cuddles.” He leans back into the touches to his head and neck around the cowboy hat, humming happily.

“Are Jake cuddles a new thing?” Jolene asks, eyes sparkling. “Should I jump in on this?”

“Plenty of Jake cuddles to go around,” the blonde nods seriously, smiling. “But you have to ask Cougar if he’ll share.”

“Oh well, that’s a big fat no. We have a better chance at convincing him to give up his last candy bar,” Pooch says, nudging Jake’s foot.

“You just compared me to a candy bar?”

“ _Porque eres dulce_ ,” Cougar murmurs close to his ear, both of which immediately redden.

“You’re going to give me diabetes,” Roque grouses. He sets a platter of finished hotdogs in the middle of the table. He helps Janelle set the rest of the food, plates, and flatware down within reach.

At Janelle’s instruction, Cougar fetches more chairs so that they can all sit in one while they eat. Respectfully, they all bow their heads as Cougar murmurs Grace in Spanish. Then they dig in, Jake having to do so one-handed. The others don’t help, most likely worried he’ll get upset because they’re babying him. If he whines, they’ll give in; otherwise, he’s on his own.

The blonde hums happily, eyes sparking at the homemade food. Even if it’s not gourmet, it’s a helluva sight better than what is at the hospital. He listens to the others chat about what has been going on at school, how Coach Clay is working everyone even remotely involved harder in PE and out on the field—he is the soccer coach and football co-coach. They agree to gather notes in the important classes, pretty much only on what the class was about since he’s practically a step ahead anyway.

They eventually make their way to the living room to take turns playing video games. Cougar reclaims his hat, and Jake jokes that that must be where he gets his gaming mojo. Roque turns out to be worthless at Mario Cart, but really good at combat-style games. Go figure. Any avatars his friends made, Jake saves for later use for if they want to come play again.

The group heads home around 9:30pm, and Cougar—with an expression only Jake identifies as his pouty face—has to be dragged away to be taken home. Jake, of course, “helps” by blowing kisses and wiggling his fingers as the Latino is stuffed in Pooch’s car.

“Is he your boyfriend or your puppy?” Janelle asks beside him, amused.

“He’s a cat, Nelle! A cuddly, protective, occasionally psychotic, chocolate-addicted kitty-cat,” Jake declares.

~*~~*~~*~

_The next day is extremely boring._ Janelle is gone at work, the others at school—which he has been forbidden to attend until Monday—since it’s Wednesday. He naps, plays with the stray cat’s kittens, plays games online and on console. Just for fun, he hacks into World of Warcraft accounts to mess with random players’ avatars—not causing any true damage, just giving them more _colorful_ appearances that can easily be fixed later on. He tries to avoid taking his pain meds, mostly because of the lack of cuddlebuddies.

At 4pm, the blonde wakes up from a pain-ridden doze at the sound of gentle knocking. He stumbles groggily to the door and smiles as he lets Cougar in. Then he frowns. “What’s the bag for, Carlos?”

“ _Mi madre consintió en dejarme quedarme aquí para el resto de la semana hasta que esté bien_ ,” Cougar explains, setting the bag on the couch. He circles Jake’s body with his arms, smiling. “ _¿Cree que_ Janelle _me permitirá también?_ ”

“ _Si mi hermana no le deja quedarse, le escondiré en mi armaria,_ ” Jake promises. He buries his uninjured hand in Cougar’s curly hair, pulling out the band holding it together. “ _¿Sabías que una mujer escondió su amante en el armario durante un mes entero? Su marido dormía en una habitación diferente. Ella y el hombre asesinaron al marida cuando se enteró de ello._ ” He grins down at the stocky male. “ _No se preocupes, querido. No dejaré_ Janelle _matarte si te encuentra._ ”

Cougar rolls his eyes, clearly very tolerant of his _loco novio_. He backs Jake up until the couch hits his legs, and Jake sits down. The Latino promptly crawls into his lap. “ _Incesante charlatan. Incluso en Español,_ ” Cougar mutters fondly. “ _¿Por que ella me mataria?_ ”

“ _Porque you soy adorable e imposible de elminiar_ ,” Jake chirps. He ducks under the brim of Cougar’s hat, kissing firm yet soft lips with his own. His neck and shoulder twinge, but he hides the wince and wraps his arm around Cougar’s waist.

Cougar, however, notices it anyway and pulls back. There is a small crease between his brows. “ _¿Ha tomado sus medicamentos hoy?_ ”

Jake ducks his head, slightly guilty. “No.”

“ _¿Por que no?_ ”

“Because no was around to cuddle me today,” Jake whines, not unlike a petulant child. “I took half a dose last night, and Janelle couldn’t escape from me for two hours. She couldn’t even knock me out with that pressure point thing cuz she was afraid of aggravating the injury I already have on my neck, or that I wouldn’t wake up from my concussed brain. If I don’t have a living person to grapple, I get depressed and mopey, and Janelle says I look like a kicked puppy.” He pouts, eyes seeming to increase in size for the classic puppy dog eyes, as if to prove his point.

Cougar puts up a valiant fight against them, but he eventually deflates and hugs his _novio_ carefully. Then he straightens with a smirk. He retreats from Jake’s lap, ignoring his complaint, and fetches the blonde’s pills and a glass of water. He then drags Jake to his bedroom. “ _Estoy aquí ahora. Abrace a mí._ ” His grin is smug as he holds out the pills.

Jake hesitates a moment, then mentally kicks himself for it. Cougar is openly offering limitless cuddles! Hell if he is going to pass that up. He swallows the pills, downing the water swiftly after. He scoots back on the bed until his back hits the wall—he didn’t like his bed out in the open. Cougar hangs his hat over the knob of one of the posts on either side of the headboard. Then he crawls in, wrapping his arms around Jake. Jake wriggles so he can shift his right arm—the only mobile arm and on the only side he can lay on—under and around his fiery Latino not-yet-lover.

The pain fades as the painkillers kick in, and Jake buries his face in thick, black curls, inhaling Cougar’s scent. He hums tunelessly in his fuzzy happiness, hooking a leg over Cougar since he can’t use both arms to keep him there. The warmth of the smaller male entices the lanky teen to get as close as he can. He settles once he feels totally comfortable. Cougar pats his back in a tolerant manner.

“I love you, Carlos Alvarez,” Jake says into Cougar’s hair with a voice that shouldn’t be quite so singsongy. He blames it on the drugs.

There is a brief pause he’s sure would feel awkward if not for said drugs. Then he feels Cougar’s smile against his sensitive throat, close to his Adam’s apple, and forgets all about what his current condition is unable to detect. “ _Te amo,_ Jacob Jensen.”

Jake smiles, cuddling closer and tightening his grip, if that is even possible. He hopes he’s not smothering his boyfriend. Cougar kisses and nibbles his Adam’s apple, and he supposes that that’s a good indication that the soccer captain is still alive and breathing. A high-pitched whine or pleasure escapes before he can catch it. “Will you tell me that when I’m not drugged?”

“ _Voy si va._ ”

“Easily done, my cowboy hat wearing friend.”

The lock clicks; the front door opens. There is a clatter of keys, the door shuts, and then the rustle of Janelle walking through the house. Jake lifts his head, covering Cougar’s ears awkwardly to protect them from his shouts. “Janelle!”

“What?!”

“Can Cougs and I do a sleepover? We have to plan our wedding!”

There is yet another pause. Cougar mutters against Jake’s throat before biting it gently, forcing the blonde to stifle a yelp that would have brought his overprotective sister racing in; he then soothes it with his tongue.

Finally, Janelle shouts her response: “Only if I’m maid of honor.”

~*~~*~~*~

_Nunca_ : Never

_Gringos_ : Yankees; foreigners; derogatory term used in Latin America to refer to white English-speakers, usually Americans

_Mis hermanos mayores_ : My big brothers

_Mi familia_ : My family

_Uno de mis dos hermanas_ : One of my two sisters

_Besar es muy agradable._ : Kisses are very nice.

_Estoy deseando_. : I look forward to it.

_Sería un honor conocer a tu hermana. ¿Cuándo sería un buen momento para venir?_ : It would be an honor to meet your sister. When would be a good time to come over?

_Buenas noches, cariño._ : Good night, darling/honey.

_Creo que puedes hacer lo que propongas a, mi querido._ : I think you can do whatever you want, my darling (Closest I could get to “I think you can do whatever you set your mind to, my darling”)

_Eres un dulce hablador, amable señor._ : You are a sweet talker, kind sir.

_Su Español no es malo, mi amigo._ : Your Spanish is not bad, my friend.

_Estaba tomando un curso intensive cuando lamió mi oreja._ : I was taking a crash course when you licked my ear.

_¿Quiere que yo lo haga otra vez?_ : Do you want me to do it again?

_Tal vez más tarde, mi amigo._ : Maybe later, my friend.

_Madre_ : Mother

_Pequeño hijo rubio_ : Little blonde/fair-haired son

_Novio_ : Boyfriend

_Pendejo_ : Asshole, jerk, etc.

_Porque eres dulce_. : Because you’re sweet.

_Mi madre consintió en dejarme quedarme aquí para el resto de la semana hasta que esté bien._ : My mother agreed to let me stay here for the rest of the week until you are well.

_¿Cree que_ Janelle _me permitirá también?_ : Do you think Janelle will allow me also?

_Si mi hermana no le deja quedarse, le escondiré en mi armaria._ : If my sister doesn’t let you stay, I will hide you in my closet.

_¿Sabías que una mujer escondió su amante en el armario durante un mes entero? Su marido dormía en una habitación diferente. Ella y el hombre asesinaron al marida cuando se enteró de ello._ : Did you know a woman hid her lover in her closet for a whole month? Her husband slept in a different room. She and the guy murdered the husband when he found out about it.

_No se preocupes, querido. No dejaré_ Janelle _matarte si te encuentra._ : Don’t worry, darling. I won’t let Janelle kill you if she finds you.

_Incesante charlatan. Incluso en Español._ : Incessant chatterbox. Even in Spanish.

_¿Por que ella me mataria?_ : Why would she kill me?

_Porque you soy adorable e imposible de elminiar_. : Because I’m adorable and impossible to get rid of.

_¿Ha tomado sus medicamentos hoy?_ : Have you taken your medication today?

_¿Por que no?_ : Why not?

_Estoy aquí ahora. Abrace a mí._ : I’m here now. Cuddle with me.

_Te amo._ : I love you.

_Voy si va._ : I will if you will.

 


End file.
